Jurassic Park
by OokamiHybrid
Summary: "Brachiosaur." Stiles whispered, leaning in until his cheek was pressed flush to Scott's. "It's a brachiosaur. Scott it's a dinosaur." His voice cracked and shook on the word, fingers digging into Scott's shirt.
1. Jurassic Park

_**AN: This was inspired by the love Jurassic Park/Teen Wolf AU gifset by scttmccall on tumblr. **_

_Jurassic Park_

_Matt smirked at the man across from him, arms folded over his chest as he leaned back into his chair. "You know I'm starting to think this deal is a little one sided. I mean I'm getting a bit of cash out of it, but if I get caught, whose ass is on the line? Mine. That's right. I think you need to do something to keep me on board." He waved a miniscule memory card in front of the other man's face. "I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of other places that would pay top dollar to see just what kind of research WMGG is doing. In fact, I'm positive there are. See," He popped a few chips into his mouth, chewing easily. "I'm the one with the leverage here. So from now on I'll be calling the shots. I brought something for you, something I think you're going to be real interested in." He pulled a sealed envelope from his backpack, casually handing it across the table._

_The man leafed through the photographs, mouth pulling down into a severe frown. "Where did you get these?" He asked voice low with barely restrained anger._

_Matt chuckled. "Doesn't matter where I got them, does it? All that matters is that those aren't the only copies, and a good friend of mine has several others stored away in case anything unfortunate happens to me. Despite what you might think, I'm not actually an idiot. When you hired me, I made sure to study up on you. Friends in high places and all that."_

"_You had the job at WMGG before I even approached you." The man mused, realization dawning on his face as he set one particular photograph atop the others. "You were set either way."_

"_The one thing you learn when you work as a journalist is to look at life from every possible angle." Matt explained, tapping his fingers on the table. "So I'm going to ask you just this once: what are you willing to do to sweeten this deal? All it's going to take is a click of a button, and Whittemore will know just what you've been doing at the Island. It'll all come out, and if you don't think he'll get the best lawyer money can buy to get your ass behind bars, you've got another thing coming."_

"_I don't like being manipulated, Mr Daehler. If you can do what you've promised, and collect the embryo's, I'll grant you whatever you like. Name your price." He tipped his head in a nod, eyelids drooping until they were only half lidded. He had the distinct feeling that he wouldn't particularly enjoy whatever would come out of Matt's mouth next. He also knew that no matter what it was, he wouldn't refuse. The things he could do with that DNA at his fingertips..._

"_I want her."_

_The man looked down at the photo on the top of the pile, humming softly. "Then you'll have her Mr Daehler. But first, you do your part."_

I

Scott lifted his head at the far away sound of a chopper. He was more than used to the heightened hearing he had by this point in time but certain noises never failed to draw his attention. He saw the look his best friend was sending him and gave a little shake of his head. "It's nothing, don't worry about it." He said, ducking back down to his work. His hands were unerringly steady as he moved the soft bristled brush across delicate bone, slowly but surely uncovering the remains of a long lost monster.

Scott had decided to into paleontology out of a desire for solitude after a teenager an accident he'd suffered as a teenager, one that had left him feeling stuck. Stiles, his best friend and partner in crime – a paleobotanist, who he'd know since he was four – was the only person aside from his mother who was aware of his condition. Point in fact; Stiles had been the one to _discover_ Scott's condition, helping him through it as they researched tirelessly on what could be ailing him. After they'd finally begun making sense of what had happened to him, Scott had felt an overwhelming sense of loss.

With what he could do, then, how could he ever leave? He'd wanted to maybe continue Lacrosse professionally, but there was no way he would ever pass a blood test. There was no telling what would show up and the problems it would cause were...phenomenal. He'd toyed with the idea of following his part time job as a vet tech at the local animal shelter, but after the accident, most animals wouldn't approach him. His presence sent the cats and smaller mammals into a flurry of panic, to the point where his boss had had to let him go.

Stiles had helped him through the depression that followed, and helped him keep control when he was inches away from losing everything. They had done everything together after that, growing even closer than they had after Scott's dad left and Stiles' mom passed away. Their friendship was strengthened further, and to this day, Scott would get misty eyed whenever he thought of Stiles' _hey man, you still got me_ on the Lacrosse field the summer before they went into grade eleven.

It had been during one of Scott's many "woe is me" speeches that Stiles had flipped on the Discovery channel to distract him. They had settled in to watch a documentary on a famous paleontologist and Scott had off handedly expressed a desire to do something like that – after all, there was no chance of him hurting something that was already dead, at least not a way he'd feel guilty over. If he broke a fossil he'd be upset, but it was better than accidentally murdering someone. If they could find the funds for their own dig...

Stiles had jumped into the research portion of it and during their first year of University, the shorter haired boy had managed to land them a summer internship at WMGG, the Whittemore-Martin Genetics Group. It had been a grueling summer of work, full of sweat and blood. They hadn't met the renowned but secretive Whittemore-Martins even once instead working under their head of tech, Danny Mahealani – who was a totally great guy.

They had returned to WMGG every summer until graduation. Danny had apparently put in a good word for them and the second they'd been awarded their PhD's in their respective fields, they'd received a letter offering a fifty thousand dollar dig sponsorship, and a subcontract under WMGG's dig specialists. They'd gotten so drunk they could hardly see then packed up and shipped out as soon as they had the necessary permits to start a site in New Mexico.

Scott and Stiles, the Dynamic Duo, had managed to build a name for themselves the last three years and kept their crew to the bare minimum.

Scott dragged himself from his thoughts when Stiles' fist connected none too gently with the back of his head. His brow furrowed, and he tilted his face towards his friend, prepared to use the puppy eyes. But Stiles wasn't hitting him to be a jerk – he looked concerned and was waving a tarp rapidly in the air, trying desperately to get it over their halfway uncovered specimen.

His mind rejoined his body quickly after that. The chopper was circling overhead, kicking up dust and dirt and nearly ripping one of the crews tents clear off the ground. Stiles was screaming at him to cover the fossil, frantically hammering spikes into the edges of the stained green tarp on his side, one leg stretched awkwardly to the left in an attempt to keep the other corner down. Scott's enhanced body worked faster than Stiles' average one. The fossil was saved from any further covering – the damned chopper had undone a fair bit of their work.

Furious, Scott clenched his fists and forced himself to his feet as the air ridden beast swiveled away, landing high upon the hill. "What the Hell was that?" He shouted in Stiles' direction, already heading towards the trailer. Who the heck would do something like that? Their site was a no-fly zone for a _reason_ and air control would have told any craft of that fact. He was contemplating radioing into town as Stiles caught up to him.

When they finally reached their trailer, the pilot of the helicopter refused to talk to them. Stiles banged his fist angrily on the door, shouting through the glass for the moron to tell him what was going on, but the woman just waved a hand and gestured vaguely in the direction of the trailer –

The trailer, whose door was hanging open. Scott shook his head and stormed up the three metal steps, listening as Stiles slammed the door shut behind them. "What are you _doing_? Do you have any idea what kind of damage you could have done?" He raged at the man who – who had just made himself at home. He was dressed in a tailored, charcoal grey suit, all long limbs and sharp cheekbones. He was almost _pretty_.

He was also swirling a glass of the whiskey they'd been saving, perched on a broken barstool with a condescending smirk on his face. He raised an eyebrow at the Duo as he raised the glass to his mouth, shifting his weight so the stool didn't topple.

"Who the Hell do you think you are?" Stiles shot out as he grabbed the still uncapped bottle, dragging it back across the small counter. "What gives you the right to-"

"Jackson Whittemore." He said smoothly. "Owner of WMGG? I'm the biggest donor to your little group?" He offered, sipping again at the glass. He watched as the Duo stared at him, apparently dumbfounded, and waited for any further questions. When nothing came, he shrugged his shoulders and propped an elbow on their dust smeared cabinet, making a mental note to get the jacket dry cleaned as soon as he was back home. "I have a proposition for you two. One that I think you'll both find...satisfying."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Stiles hissed back at him, uncaring over the fact that he was finally meeting the man that had almost single handedly provided their careers. Jackson's other eyebrow lifted to join the first and his smirk turned nastier.

"I need two consultants and while you're not the most qualified in either of your fields, I know firsthand how hard you work. My wife requested you personally on Danny's referral, and what Lydia wants, Lydia gets." He pulled a chequebook from one of the jacket pockets. "Of course that isn't to say you won't be compensated for your work. We only need you for four days, but we're willing and able to add an extra twenty five thousand onto the fifty we grant you annually. If the results of your consultation are the ones we're looking for, we're prepared to make that twenty five into another fifty. You understand what I'm saying?"

"You're saying that if we go work with you for four days we could potentially double our group's sponsorship from you." Stiles muttered in a deadpan, elbow biting into Scott's ribs when his friend just stared at Jackson, slack jawed.

"But we're...we're in the middle of a-" Stiles elbowed Scott again, making a slicing gesture across his throat, signaling for Scott to _shut up_.

"Dude." He breathed, his lips hardly moving. He couldn't even hear himself talking yet he knew Scott would get it loud and clear. "We can have someone else finish the dig. Do you know how much new equipment we'll be able to buy with an extra fifty G's? Four days won't kill us Scott. And your monthly is already gone. It'll be fine. We _need_ this." His voice was faintly pleading, and Scott knew just how much that money would help. They'd broken a few scanners, and most everything they owned was second hand or self repaired. The extra cash would make them – it wouldn't break them to be without it, but...it wouldn't break them to leave their dig in the capable hands of their pupils for four days either.

Scott pulled his mouth into a crooked smile as he wiped his grimy hands on his grimier jeans, reaching out to Jackson for a shake. "It sounds great Mr Whittemore. When do we leave?"

Jackson took Scott's hand for a brief moment before downing the rest of his glass and rising. "I have a private helicopter that will pick you up in two days. You'd better start packing. Make sure to dress lightly – it's going to be warm." He excused himself with a lazy, two fingered salute, and they listened as the chopper took once more to the sky.

As they spent their lives dealing with the remnants of the long forgotten neither of them thought to ask what they'd be consulting about. Just as neither of them would have been able to come up with what would transpire only days later, in their wildest dreams.

I

Derek Hale sat across from the woman, completely at ease. She was a pretty thing – strawberry blond hair, slim waist, sharp eyes. They were the sort of eyes that bred deceit, smooth in color and swimming with an intelligence that could be deadly to lesser men. Derek was not a lesser man. He casually tilted his bottle of water at her before drinking deeply, his own gaze never once leaving her face.

He took note of the slow, secret curve of her mouth as she tried to hide a smile. "You're a very difficult man to get hold of, Derek. I was beginning to think that I'd do the impossible and finally fail at something in life." She twirled a lock of hair around a manicured finger, before releasing it. It sprang back into a gentle curl, resting against the side of her face. She began a steady _rap tap tap_ against the table, crossing her legs in an effort to draw his attention.

His attention was drawn, and then released. A piece of Lydia Martin was not worth the price he'd have to pay for it. "Something I can help you with?" He asked instead, tone casual as he leaned back and crossed his arms. It was cooler here, his worn leather jacket a comfort, helping to keep the heat inside. "I don't suspect you're the kind of woman that pays courtesy calls. You never have before."

Once long ago, Derek had taken a loan from WMGG to finance a hunt in Africa.

That had been after his parents' death. They'd left behind a good deal of money, and when he'd finished his zoology and animal behaviors courses – graduating top of his class for his thesis on wolves – Laura, his sister, had been willing to use it to invest in his hunt. He'd turned down the offer with the explanation that he'd wanted to do it on his own. And he had.

Derek had borrowed the money and paid it back within the year, interest free. His cash had come from an extensive study on the pack dynamics of the African wild dog – an animal that was as enigmatic as it was vicious. It was there that he'd met two kids on an internship with an elephant program. Erica and Boyd now worked solely for him, and there was absolutely no reason for Lydia to be shoving her pretty little nose back into his business.

He'd given Jackson everything he could, many years ago.

"We have another proposition." Lydia said coolly, the coy sexiness gone. Now there was only the smooth talking business woman who was more lethal that her husband, every bit the renowned geneticist that she'd worked to become. Lydia Martin was top in her field, having been the first to successfully clone a human organ, from nothing more than a simple lab mouse.

_A wolf in sheep's clothing_ he heard in Laura's voice, all dry amusement and sarcasm. He merely lifted a brow and settled the bottle back onto the table. "If I recall correctly, the last proposition you gave me wasn't exactly a choice. So what did you come here to threaten me with this time?" And really, that was the funny thing. That Derek at six feet tall with all his muscle and sharp wit, could be threatened by the slim woman sitting across from him. Everyone had their secrets, though. It was just a case of misfortune that Lydia – and by extension, Jackson – knew his.

"I'm not here to threaten you Derek. There really is a deal on the table now. I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime. WMGG has recently come into possession of some extraordinary animals that people would very well die to see. As a favor for all that you've done for us, Jackson and I would like to extend first rights to you and your team. That is to say, we'd like you to come for a few days to study the animals. We have our own behavioural analysis unit of experts, but when it comes to big, deadly animals...well needless to say, you're the person we trust the most." The left side of her mouth lifted into a smirk as her eyes spat daggers. "After all, you are at the top of the food chain aren't you?

"Not interested." He replied smoothly, signalling for a waiter to come over. He'd only had the water and a bagel, and was tempted to foot Lydia with his meager bill, but knew the woman would only come back to bite him in the ass if he did that. "Ask someone else."

"You know it's rude to not listen to someone fully, before you jump to conclusions? We're going to pay you for your work, you know." She slid a folder across the table, and he spared but a glance at the name _Erica Reyes_ before he bit back a growl. "It would be lovely if her past went away, wouldn't it Derek? It's so hard to do exhibits outside the continent when the best of your staff isn't allowed to leave legally. We've already had Danny prepare the necessary paperwork. Your word is worth a lot, Derek. If you were willing to come for the pilot opening and endorse our research, our resort, well, we'd be willing to scratch your back for you."

"If I do this, her record goes away?" He asked, watching Lydia as she nodded. "I'm not going anywhere without them." He told her, dropping his voice to a soft rumble. "My team and I don't do exhibits or studies unless we're together."

"Naturally." She sniffed, handing the waiter a large bill and telling him to keep the change. She stood and smoothed her designer dress back down, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "I'll have the details of the pickup point emailed to you as soon as possible. Be prepared to leave in two days. There's already a spot for each of your employees. I know how mutts like to run together." She gave him a final wave before she slipped from the dank, crowded cafe.

Outside she called Danny to let him know the information was a go.

She spared a final glance at Derek. He was standing outside the cafe as well, cloaked in the shadows. Hazel eyes were pinned on her as the hulking man stood stock still, mindless of the people jostling around him. He only had eyes for her; in a different time or place, Lydia would have been enthralled to have that much power focused on her. In the here and now, she knew that no good would come of it. The sooner she finished wringing everything she could from Derek Hale, the better. They'd been involved with him and his kind for far too long, and the day when she could wash her hands of him for once and for all would be a marvelous day indeed.

I

The pilot of the helicopter was a sharp angled, cold eyed redhead who went by the name Victoria Argent. When Derek and his team of animal behavioural analysts pulled into the lot in the black Camaro, the woman was standing outside the chopper, waiting for them. She had the black head piece on and was dressed in a plain dark green romper, the bottoms of the pants tucked neatly into heavy boots. He had the distinct feeling that they were steel toed. "Mr Hale?" She asked him in a no nonsense tone, shaking his hand once. She had a firm grip and calloused palms, hands that spoke of hard work. He wondered what else she did for the Whittemore-Martin power couple, besides tote their unwilling partners around. "If you would please get in and buckle up, we have a long ride ahead of us and still one more stop." Her smile was almost sweet.

Derek saw right through it. "Right." He said, dry, jerking his chin at Erica and Boyd. They each picked up their bag – singular, with only the bare necessities – and clambered into the spacious aircraft. He followed after, letting Erica sit in the middle so she could easily talk to both of them over the rumbling.

This trip would be the very first time since meeting in Africa that Erica would be leaving US soil. She was both excited and nervous. It had been a long time for her.

He had of course warned both of them to stay as far away from the WMGG owners as they could. They'd more than likely see each other, since Jackson loved to stroke his ego in front of a crowd, but they weren't to talk to them, or to be caught alone with them. He told them that Jackson was dangerous and Erica, in her usual way, firmly told him that Jackson and Lydia both looked like snakes. It had caused a pang of discomfort for the youngest living Hale, and they'd dropped the topic.

Boyd pulled his headphones on as they started out, and Erica stole Derek's tablet from him which was fine. He'd expected as much, and had brought a well loved book along for the ride. He briefly thought that he should have asked what sort of predator they'd be studying, and then shrugged it off. If Lydia wanted to be vague and he was unable to give her as good a recommendation as she wanted, that was her problem. He'd find another way to deal with Erica.

They sat in near silence until the chopper landed down around three hours later. He glanced at the door when Victoria opened it, then blinked in surprise at the two that piled in. They couldn't be any older than Erica or Boyd.

The one with the longer hair was faintly tanned, shoved into baggy jeans, a skin tight black tee shirt, and a brown lambskin leather jacket which looked downright buttery. The kid tossed him a wave before sliding into the seat across from Boyd, pressing his nose into the window like an over eager puppy.

"Dude I told you I wanted a window seat, I get plane sick. And no, this isn't a plane but it flies and you're an asshole, I hate you. So not your friend anymore bro." The second boy was paler, lightly muscled. His brown hair was cropped close to his head, and he dressed in a ridiculous amount of layers, covered from the neck down. He dropped into the spot across from Derek - a window seat - pursed his lips, and offered the man a nod. "I don't want to sit this far away from you Scott."

"You're so needy." The dark one, Scott, said. He tossed a playful grin at his friend and then stretched a leg out so their ankles were brushing. "Come on Stiles it isn't that bad. You got your medication right? We'll just listen to some music and you can nap!"

"What the Hell is a Stiles?" Erica asked.

Stiles, in return, let his mouth fall open into an 'o' shape as he stared at the blond, eyes seemingly trying to bulge out of his head. "I'm a Stiles." He replied, trying for suave and failing. "And what're you?" There was a deal of bite into the words, and Derek bit down on the urge to smile. Not many people were willing to get on Erica's bad side – most of them wanted to get into her _bed_ side. Still, there was a faint arousal around the kid, so perhaps sarcasm was a defense mechanism.

Or a really bad way of flirting.

Erica barked out a laugh and lifted both her feet to rest them on the chair between the boys. "I'm Erica. I study animal behaviour patterns. This is my boss, Derek, and my partner Boyd." She gestured to each of her men as she introduced them.

Stiles buckled in then leaned forward to shake her hand. "Stiles Stilinski, paleobotanist, Batman aficionado extraordinaire. This is Scott, my heterosexual life partner. Same age, single and looking, not as hot as me. Paleontologist – has a weird obsession with eggs. Kind of creepy."

"Dude!" Scott punched his friend in the shoulder despite the way he was grinning widely. It was clear to everyone present that these two were close. "WMGG is one of our biggest donors, we did our internships with them and they sort of took us on once we graduated. Jackson asked us to come and do a consultation for whatever it is he's working on." He explained. "If things go the way he wants he'll be doubling the money they put into our program, so it's kind of a big deal. But now I'm really confused. Why are you guys going to be there if you study animals?"

"Don't know." Derek interrupted, before Erica could start talking. "They just told us they'd come into possession of some rare animals and that they wanted us to take a look and sign off an endorsement."

"What kind of animals do you study?" Stiles looked genuinely curious, which was interesting. From the lanky stature to bright, flashy dress code – red plaid over a nearly neon blue shirt, not the kind of attire that proves ones stealth – it seemed as though he'd be more interested in videogames than wilderness. Then again, the boy studied extinct plants for a living. That had to count for something.

"Predators." Boyd was the one who spoke up then, headphones around his neck. "We stuck with canines for a while, but we've done bit of work with big cats."

Scott furrowed his brow, clearly confused. "What kind of big animals could they have?" He obviously hadn't asked what sort of consultation he was going to be doing if the 'whatever project they're working on' comment could be taken at face value. "We don't study living things, we study dead things."

"Could be some sort of reptile." Stiles explained away. His hands were curled around his buckle, grip tight enough that his knuckles had turned white. His heart was nearly racing out of his chest; skipping a beat every few moments as the chopper finally spun into motion and began to lift from the ground. It was rough for a few minutes, a steady pattern of _rise, drop, rise, drop_ until Victoria got the thing evened out and they hit clear skies. "I mean we study dinosaurs and extinct plants, but they could be trying to open some sort of exhibit. I read about a monk temple that takes in Bengal tigers? It'd be good publicity to have some sort of resort or reserve for dangerous reptiles, which is where you and I would come in. Comparing them to their ancestors, and I mean, I study extinct plants yeah, but I know my everyday horticulture too." He was a rambling mess, forehead beaded with sweat as he stared straight out the window.

"Just breathe man, I got you. I won't let anything happen Stiles." Scott was keeping his voice oddly low, and the trio watched as the darker haired boy leaned across Erica's leg. He curled a tanned hand over his friend's neck, twisting him around until he could press their foreheads together. "Come on dude; don't have a panic attack on me now. Just breathe with me." He was speaking in a coo, eyes drifting shut as he inhaled slowly through his nose, releasing on a deep exhale after holding a few seconds.

After several tense minutes Stiles slapped a palm over Scott's shoulder and pulled away. He didn't look as though the incident had embarrassed him at all, which was – interesting. It wasn't unusual for them, it seemed. Derek relaxed once the two across from him settled back into their seats.

What had been silence before was now filled with a steady stream of gentle chatter, as the younger foursome tried to decipher just what they'd gotten themselves into by agreeing to the WMGG's owner's conditions.

"_Buckle your seatbelts kids. We'll be landing in fifteen._" Victoria called over the PA, voice smooth as ice. True to her word, the chopper jerked violently only moments after, making a steady decline towards the ground. Stiles didn't seem to panic again simply closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ceiling, heart rate and breathing even. The promise of solid ground seemed more soothing that his friend could have been.

Erica wiggled lightly in excitement when the metal craft jumped around them, signalling their landing. When the propellers were finally done spinning, they could make out the harsh beat of a waterfall nearby. Victoria opened the door and stepped aside to let them exit.

Jackson and Lydia were waiting for them, dressed immaculately in designer outfits as they stood off to the side of the pristine cement landing circle. Aside from the chopper they'd arrived in, there was no sign of manmade life. Derek felt tense muscles uncoil at the sight of endless forest.

It was a rainforest to be sure. In the distance they could hear the siren call of tropical birds, cheering merrily as they bustled through the foliage. The waterfall was closer than they thought, droplets landing on their bare skin every few seconds. The entire place smelled damp and clean, like fresh soil and moss. Like wilderness. Stiles turned in a full circle three times, eyes trying to drink everything in. It was breathtaking.

They were high upon a cliff with a jagged rocky trail leading down the side. It had a steep drop on the right, which faced out towards the ocean, and the left was bordered by a rock face that looked so natural, one would think it belonged there.

"We'd like to take you in to the main building before we begin the tour." Lydia crooned, voice sugary sweet as she smiled at the group. "There's cars waiting at the bottom of the hill, but we assumed after such a long trip you'd like to stretch your legs and get some fresh air. The flight here can be a little tedious at times, we know."

"Do you fly back and forth often?" Stiles asked. He already had his bag over his shoulder and was bounding towards the WMGG's CEO's without a second thought. He didn't appear to have much of a sense of personal boundaries. "How often?"

"We tend to ferry in." Lydia replied, lips pursed as she peered up at Stiles. She'd only ever seen him once before, on his very first internship. He hadn't seen her. She'd merely been by the dig to check on an amber deposit Danny had said they'd found. She'd come in, and she'd left, as was her way. Her research was more important to her than supervising what the diggers did. "And not often. We have everything we need here on the Island, and anything else, we get shipped to us. It's a very meticulous process that requires a lot of planning, and I'm due to check on the latest orders when we get in. If you don't mind Mr Stilinski, I'd like to get going now. This way everyone, follow me. And watch your step. A tumble might not end well."

Scott peered over the edge of the cliff and grimaced to himself. No, a fall would most certainly end in sudden death. For the first time in a long time he had the sense of being trapped. He shrugged it off when Stiles grinned at him and slung an arm over his shoulder, and pushed the strange smells out of his mind. It didn't matter what they would be consulting with. It was worth it.

They were met at the base of the cliff by two safari Jeeps and a man who carried himself like a soldier. Jackson introduced him as Chris Argent, and not a single one of the consultants would have been able to guess that their pilot, Victoria, was married. The couple hardly so much as spared a glance at one another, instead moving to each take charge of a vehicle.

Both Stiles and Derek silently worried about the two guns strapped discreetly strapped to the male Argent. They were hardly detectable to the naked eye – one was strapped under the shoulder of his bulging camouflage jacket, and the other tucked into a holster high upon his hip – but if you spent enough time enough time with cops, as was Stiles' case, you tended to pick up on these sorts of things. Stiles could tell from only looking at him that he was a right handed gunman. He had the feeling that Chris was a pretty damn good one, too.

In Derek's case when one spent half their life dodging bullets, one very quickly learned who to watch out for. It would appear, he mused as he absently slid into the Jeep after Stiles, that avoiding the Argents wouldn't be possible for the next four days. He would have to keep his guard up. Lydia didn't make mistakes. She had to know about the guns, and there had to be a purpose for them aside from animal control.

People didn't tend to use easily concealed weapons for animal control – tranqs wouldn't fit. They were the kinds of guns that were meant to kill, not stun.

Stiles chattered an endless stream of questions as they rumbled down the road. He was sitting beside Lydia and across from Derek, who had placed himself beside Scott. The interior of the Jeeps had four seats facing towards each other, making it easier to talk. A glance out the windows told them that there was still nothing around for miles in either direction, save for a vast expanse of jungle and the occasional babbling river. The skies were quietly greying over with wispy rain clouds but it didn't appear to be anything to worry over.

Lydia seemed willing to answer most anything Stiles asked now that they were in motion, as it wasn't putting her behind schedule. "I think when you see what type of work we're doing here, you and Mr McCall especially will be impressed. I'm hoping that you can give me feedback on the botanical decor. I know next to nothing about plants and I haven't had the time to do the necessary research as of yet."

Scott was trying to hide a smirk, so Derek shot him a questioning look. The younger man shook his head and Derek realized what was going on – Stiles was absolutely enthralled with Lydia, eyes focused solely on her as they discussed the merit of edible flowers.

Derek felt a wave of irritation roll over him. He let it come, not bothering to fight it. It rolled over his shoulders and off him again like a dog shedding water. It wasn't his business if these gullible kids wanted to play monopoly with the WMGG. It wouldn't be his neck on the line if Lydia – who was very much a snake, as Erica had said previously – wasn't pleased with them in the end.

"He's an idiot." Derek told Scott quietly as he tried to force himself to relax into his seat, knowing the rest of their party was distracted. "She's going to suck him dry, wring him for all he's worth, then leave him hanging."

Scott's face pulled into an adorable little frown complete with worry lines creasing his forehead. "Dude." He hissed, "I don't want to think about my best friend having sex!"

Derek stared at the puppy faced moron. "I don't – I'm not –" He growled in frustration as he jerked Scott closer to him with a hand around the back of the boy's neck. He ignored the way Scott went rigid under his grip. "I'm saying she's just using you. The both of you. He might like it now but he won't later. Watch his back and don't let him get too caught up. Lydia Martin isn't the kind of person who has _friends_. She has toys, and she has a possessive husband with enough money to make any problem disappear. You get me?"

Realization dawned across Scott's face and Derek was content that he'd broken through the wall of stupidity. Until the other man spoke again. "Oh yeah, I forgot she was married." He released Scott only to smack a hand onto his own forehead, eyes closing against the beginnings of a migraine. Lydia and Stiles seemed none the wiser about what had just transpired.

What he would not _give_ to have an intelligent conversation for once in his life.

He jerked suddenly, sneaker clad foot slamming into Stiles' shin. He muttered an apology as the short haired man yelped loudly, and turned to glance sharply over his shoulder. He stared out the back window, able to see the other Jeep clearly, suddenly feeling like the world's biggest fool.

Despite all the warnings he'd given, Derek had been so distracted he'd let Boyd and Erica get into the other Jeep with Jackson. He grit his teeth against a flash of anger and lifted a hand to rub lightly at the bridge of his nose, ears straining to hear what was going on behind him.

The other vehicle was silent. He didn't know whether to be relieved or very, very worried.

He didn't have much time to think it over as the next soft hill they rolled over ended with a metal gate. They stopped long enough for the gates to swing slowly inwards before continuing on. He noted the barbed wire ornately lining the top of the fence, and the low hum that spoke of live electricity. He narrowed his eyes questioningly at Lydia but the woman simply ignored him as they pulled to a stop in front of a ridiculously out of place building. It was several stories tall and snow white, full of red curtained windows with high arches.

The entire interior was white stone walls and marble floors, polished to the point that they glittered like diamonds under the ornate chandeliers overhead. The walls were splattered generously with life sized murals of dinosaurs. Derek stood with his team as Scott urgently began commenting on the authenticity of the pelvis on a stunningly detailed parasaurolophus portrait to Stiles.

"These are toxic." The short haired boy said suddenly, hard worked pianist fingers dancing playfully across the leaves of one of the lush ferns decorating the foyer. "I mean I don't think any of us are going to go around chomping on plants, but some people react to it by touch and you said you wanted this to be a family friendly place. Kids put everything in their mouths, right?" The comment was directed at Lydia as he broke a drooping leaf from the plant, digging his thumbnail into the jagged cut which was steadily oozing a foul smelling sap.

"As I told you, I know next to nothing about plants. Everything inside the main building was picked by one of caretakers."

"I'll have them replaced right away." The group of consultants turned to face the newcomer. She was wearing jeans and work boots, along with an oddly flattering, generic green uniform top. Her hair, rich and dark, was piled onto her head in a sloppy ponytail. Loose strands brushed over her cheeks and tickled at her slim neck. "Allison Argent. I'll be your guide for the time that you're here." She had a sweet, honest smile unlike her mother. "Why don't I show you all to your rooms so you can get changed? There's enough time before dinner to take you on a quick run. It's a bit muggy, so dress light." She dropped a kiss onto her father's cheek, and then gestured for them to follow.

Their single bedrooms were larger than the entirety of the trailer that Scott and Stiles lived in. Stiles almost immediately slipped away from his room, and into Scott's. His friend tossed him a knowing grin as Stiles dropped his bag onto a dresser.

"Did you _see_ her Stiles? She's gorgeous. Talk about love at first sight." Scott's voice held a note of longing as his eyes fogged over and he flopped onto the bed. "And she just smells _so good_."

"Think they call that lust, bro." Stiles said in a sympathetic tone as he fell onto the bed beside Scott, stretching out along the king sized mattress. "Did you see Lydia though? I can't believe I'm finally meeting her. I've had a boner for her brain for like, six years. She is _way_ hotter than I thought she'd be. Oh man. Did you ever get around to reading her paper on how she cloned a human brain?" At Scott's blank look, he barreled on "Do you know how helpful that would be during a zombie apocalypse? I mean the studies they're doing on tumours and Alzheimer's and stuff is amazing too but..._zombies_."

"Don't think you're her type." Scott teased. "Not anal enough."

Stiles waggled his eyebrows and tacked his friend, catching him off guard and pinning him to the bed. He bent to try and lick Scott's cheek, but a palm over his face held him at bay as Scott groaned _gross_ at him. "Awe come on Scott; let me show you how anal I am. I love anal!" He cackled, giddy from the excitement of a vacation after so many years of working his butt off.

"You two idiots done?"

They turned to stare at Derek. The man was standing in their doorway, broad shoulders filtering out the bright lights of the hall. He had a way of overwhelming a room without ever really trying to, the sort of presence that demanded attention even if he didn't want it. "How long have you been standing there you big creep?" Stiles squawked in a voice slightly higher pitched than usual.

"Just long enough to hear how much you _love_ anal." Derek replied, the faint look of disbelief fading only to be replaced with a wicked, full toothed grin. "Which is a lot, apparently. I thought you two said you were _heterosexual _partners," His tone was faintly playful, "I didn't think you meant it like _that_."

"Ew!" Scott cried, shoving a prone Stiles off of him and back onto the mattress. "He's like my brother. What are you even doing here; don't you have your own shit to do?"

"Argent asked me to come get you. Everybody else is already waiting in the lobby, and you two were taking forever." He explained, smile fading. Stiles was a bit sad to see the disappearance of the oddly endearing bunny teeth.

At the thought of Allison, Scott perked right up. He rolled off the bed, bounced onto his feet, and moved to his bag to begin getting changed. Stiles followed him soon after, both younger men uncaring as they stripped down to their boxers and dug around for lighter clothes.

Derek shook his head and left them to it, uncomfortable with the idea of Boyd and Erica being away from him especially when there were guns floating around. They'd already told him that Jackson had been eerily quiet on the ride to the mega-mansion. The entire situation had a tense ball of unease settling low in his belly as he made his way to the group huddled near the front doors. The owners of WMGG and the Argent parents were nowhere in sight.

They set out as soon as everyone was in the lobby.

"Stop the car." Stiles breathed out not half an hour later. They all glanced at him, Allison with a knowing smile on her face. She had just been explaining that the mansion functioned as a hotel and laboratory, and that most of the actual park attractions were further away from the main building. They'd taken a light grey truck as opposed to either of the Jeeps. "Allison stop the car." He sounded breathless then, heart racing a mile a minute. His eyes rolled a little and Scott frowned in concern, silently willing his friend to not faint while wondering just what his problem was.

"I don't have the proper-"

Stiles wasn't listening. He grabbed onto the handle, seatbelt already off, and Allison cursed the fact that not a single one of the dozen vehicles they had on the Island had child safety locks. She slammed the breaks as Stiles flung his door open, the truck just barely stopped before he was stumbling out onto the gravel road.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted, slipping out after him. He grabbed his arm, but Stiles' hand found his chin, and turned his head to the side.

Scott's heart clenched and he sincerely wondered if he was having an asthma attack. He hadn't had them since before the accident, nearly ten years ago. "I – you." He stuttered, feeling Allison come up behind his shoulder. His legs began to feel weak and he slowly let himself collapse, rough gravel biting into his knees. He would have been embarrassed but Stiles was sliding down beside him – lashes wet with tears of awe as the brachiosaurus lumbered across the clearing straight ahead of them. "That's a – that's a."

"Brachiosaur." Stiles whispered, leaning in until his cheek was pressed flush to Scott's. "It's a brachiosaur. Scott it's a _dinosaur_." His voice cracked and shook on the word, fingers digging into Scott's shirt.

Derek's stomach felt as though it were dropping out. He stared at the beast that ambled along. It was close to three stories tall, with a deep set rib cage. Its neck, similar to a giraffes, was held lower as its small head turned back and forth. Eventually it raised its neck to bay, a deep rumbling sound loud enough the ground under their feet seemed to tremble. He could smell the mingling scent of excitement and fear rolling off everyone save for Allison, who merely watched with a serene look on her face.

"What the fuck did they do?" Derek whispered.

Allison crouched behind the boys still crumpled on the ground, voice gentle as she touched the back of Scott's head. "Welcome to Jurassic Park."


	2. Chapter Two

I

Derek slammed Jackson into the pristine white and grey marble counter, leaning forward until the tips of their noses touched. They'd been back at the mansion for forty minutes, and it had taken him that long to scent Jackson out. He could feel his fangs piercing through his gums as he stared the younger man down, eyes narrowed into slits. "What did you do Jackson?"

Jackson laughed; it was a soft, mocking sound, as he gripped Derek's wrist and tried to push the larger man away. "I'm making history. Quite literally, as the case may be. You're ruining my suit." He added, lips pursed, eyebrows hitched as he watched the other man, expression full of amusement. "I thought you'd be interested, after all - it's the opportunity of a lifetime; you do your job, you endorse the park. You walk away with Erica's freedom and enough money to disappear forever."

Derek still wasn't smiling. He slammed Jackson harder into the wall, lifting him a few inches from the ground as his eyes flashed crimson. Jackson's own eyes turned bright blue as they stared each other down. "Do you know what you did, Jackson? You decided to play at being God, when you're just a fucked up little boy who doesn't know _shit_." His words were slurred and deep from where they rumbled out around a mouthful of fangs.

Jackson had the audacity to scoff. "Oh, I'm sorry Derek. And – what? You're any better? You think that what you did, what you _do_ isn't playing at being a God? You're stumbling through this more blind than I am, buddy and I'll let you in on a little secret – unlike _you_, I know exactly what I'm doing." He learned forward, lips brushing Derek's ear. "I really don't see why you're so upset." He crooned. "I'm just doing what you do. Following in your footsteps, so to speak. Don't you like creating monsters too?" The last part was spat out, bitterness coating the words.

Derek stepped away, letting Jackson drop the few inches to the floor. The other man brushed his rumpled suit flat, tilting his head to pop his neck loudly. "You're going to get the helicopter ready, and you're going to get me a pilot. Because if you don't I'm going to rip your throat out." Finally, the dark haired man smiled, canines glinting in the light. "With my teeth. How does that sound?" Jackson rolled his eyes, and Derek plowed on. "This is going to blow up in your face and I'm not sticking around to pull your ass out of trouble this time. Got it? I want off this Island, within the next two hours, or you're dead. Keep your papers. I can wait a few years for Erica's record to be cleared, because you? You're not worth the trouble."

"As much as I'd love to help you I'm afraid you're stuck here for at least the night. Storm's rolling in." Jackson stalked past Derek, slamming the other man with his shoulder. "No one's leaving the Island until it blows over. Wouldn't want the chopper to crash, would we?" He stuck his head outside the bathroom door, glancing around curiously. There was no one in the hallway, so he deemed it safe to exit. "Honestly Derek, you need to relax. You're always so uptight. I've taken the most extreme measures I could think of to ensure the safety of everyone in this park. I'm not you; I don't fuck up like that. Just settle down and enjoy your stay. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You of all people should know that even the _smallest_ miscalculation can destroy everything." Derek sounded defeated as he cocked his head to the side, listening to a clap of thunder. He should have never come. "Jackson-"

"I don't want to hear it." Jackson replied, flippant as he finally began walking down the hall. "This is my life Derek not yours. I'm going to run it, and my park, how I see fit. If the storm blows over, you'll be all set to leave tomorrow morning. If not...feel free to hide away inside." His voice softened as he shot a final look over his shoulder. "Nothing's going to happen. I've got this, okay? Just...at least go down and enjoy dinner. We have a five star chef."

Derek stood in the hallway by himself long after Jackson had left. His hands continuously clenched and unclenched at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing. Stuck on an Island full of things that shouldn't _exist_. He attempted to shake the anger off, but it wasn't doing him any good – how _dare_ Jackson compare his lab creatures to what they were? Derek had been born the way he was, not created in a madwoman's basement. For a moment he regretted not killing Jackson when he'd had the chance, years ago.

Logically, he knew that Jackson being dead wouldn't really solve anything. Lydia was the brains behind the operation, Jackson was only the financial back up. Still. They'd gone above and beyond trying to recreate human tissue in a mouse, choosing instead to create something they could never hope to control.

"He-e-e-y, Derek. Why aren't you down at dinner?" Stiles' heart was skipping, seemingly never staying to a steady beat. Derek turned to face him, jaw clenched as tightly as he could to keep the fangs at bay. "Whoa dude, you okay? You don't look so hot. Well, you do look hot, but I mean, like. Here." Stiles pressed the cool of his knuckles over Derek's forehead; much to the other mans surprise. "Hmm. No fever. You're probably hungry. All this excitement you know? Do you have any idea where the dining room is? I got lost. I was trying to find my room so I could get a sweater, but whatever. I'll find it later, I'm starving." He laughed, carefree as he snagged Derek around the wrist, beginning to lead him towards a staircase. "So? Any idea where the dining room is?"

Derek exhaled through his nose as he twisted his arm, reversing the hold. Stiles' fingers twitch in his grip, but the short haired man didn't try to pull away. "I remember where it is. Follow me." He gave the hand a squeeze, just this side of harsh, before releasing him and walking ahead.

"...Whatever, dude." He picked up his pace until they were walking stride for stride. "So you really didn't have any idea?" He asked in a hushed tone. "About the dinosaurs? I mean, I obviously didn't have any clue, but you seem to know Jackson and Lydia a bit better than me, so. Just. Wow. Did you see that thing? Wasn't she beautiful?" He sounded wistful as they turned in the direction of the dining hall. "I mean...Scott and I have been digging up fossils for years, but to _see_ them here? I identified one of the plants near the brachiosaur herding ground. It hasn't been around for billions, man. They could use this technology to like, save the tigers or the polar bears or something." He turned excitement-bright eyes to Derek, grinning happily. "That was probably the coolest thing I've ever seen."

"They're not _cool_, Stiles. They're monsters." Derek shot back, reaching for the door to the dining room. "Abominations."

Stiles tossed his head back as he laughed, ducking under Derek's arm so he could enter first. "Dude, some of the best things are." He dropped down to sit beside Scott, unashamedly stealing a giant scoop of his friend's ice-cream. He nodded at Boyd when the large man snorted at him. "What? S'good."

I

Danny heaved a sigh of relief at a familiar head of hair. "Matt." The shorter man glanced over his shoulder, flashing Danny a smile. "I'm glad you got back safe. I was worried the ferry wouldn't be coming in today because of the storms. What are you doing down here in the dark?" He flicked the light switch, blinking when the fluorescent bulbs sputtered to life.

Danny was head of technology not only for the park, but for the entirety of the WMGG. He had known Jackson and Lydia since their high school days and had been the best man at their wedding. The three of them were thick as thieves, and Danny would forever remain grateful to Jacksons open minded attitude and general laid back acceptance. Not that the blond would ever let on that he was a great big softie. He had his reputation as a cut throat businessman to uphold, after all.

When the Island had been purchased and the idea of the park was but a small flicker, Danny had packed up his bags without a second thought. Jackson had had the tech building designed to Danny's liking and, with contracts working twenty four seven, the rather large control centre had been erected just south of the pteranodon aviary. Danny had requested at least two bland, metal bedrooms for when he was too exhausted to make the trip to the hotel, and a little kitchenette that was stocked with two vending machines and the best coffee machine money could buy. Te hotel had its own painstakingly detailed security room for when he was feeling sociable and didn't want to sit in the dark of the jungle, listens to the 'birds' screech. Plus, the power panels were located closest to the main building, a simple fifteen minutes away from the –

"Sorry. I just got in, was a little caught up with my head." Matt made a clicking sound with his teeth, tossing a smirk in Danny's direction. "Making a pot of coffee. You want a cup?"

"Sure, thanks."Danny muttered, dropping into his computer chair. He'd met Matt the same year he'd met McCall and Stilinski – Matt had been writing an article on the WMCC dig team for a science magazine where he'd originally been hired as a photographer. They had hit it off instantly, bonding over a malfunctioning piece of equipment, managing to save the heap of metal from a trip to the junk yard.

He felt the shorter man press against his shoulders, leaning across him to drop Danny's chipped WMGG mug onto the desk. Matt bent further over the chair, chin digging distractingly into the groove of Danny's shoulder. "So why aren't you at the big dinner? I thought for sure you'd be out socializing." He tapped a finger against the screen, where Danny had pulled up the security footage. They watched Stilinski and Hale do their little meet up outside the bathroom, eyes tracking them as the two sought out the dining room. "Storm might make it too hard to get back out there. Remember last month when the road was blocked? We were stuck out here for two days." He puffed a warm huff of air across Danny's ear. "Hm?"

Danny shifted and wheeled himself closer to the desk. He and Matt had kept a harmless, flirtatious banter up since they'd met; Danny was fairly certain Matt was straight, but there was no harm in teasing one another every now and again. "I like it out here. It's quiet – less interruptions. Jackson isn't popping in every five minutes to see me."

"Yeah but the power grids are near the hotel. We should go make sure the generator held her charge." Matt pulled away, munching quietly on his chocolate bar.

It really was a valid point. "Sure." He sighed, typing in his lockdown code. Danny was the only one with access to the full park database, a fact and privilege that he took very seriously. He never left his systems unlocked unless he was sitting directly in front of his screen. Not even for Matt.

Matt shuffled around at his own desk, typing away. He mostly dealt with security, and the cameras, documenting most of the animal's movements as well as the employees. Things that Danny didn't have time for, dealing with bigger threats. He glanced up when Danny wheeled away from his desk. "Why don't you go start the car? I'll be out in a minute, just want to make sure the cameras near the hotel are working." Danny suppressed a shudder; he didn't quite agree with keeping the most vicious of the parks attractions so close to the main building, but there was nothing he could have done. Lydia wanted them close so she could watch them – they fascinated her, in a way none of the others did.

"Sure. Make sure to turn the lights off when you leave." Danny snagged his keys from the kitchenette, before clambering up the stairs. The doors here could only be opened with their access cards, so he wasn't worried about locking up. "And make sure to turn the coffee pot off!" He added over his shoulder.

Matt made a noise of agreement, seemingly distracted by his computer. His ears strained for the final click of a latch, and he jerked away from the screen with a grunt of relief. He _did_ make sure to turn the pot off, pouring the extra into a thermos they could share. It was unfortunate that he liked Danny so much; the guy was generally a good person. It almost made Matt feel guilty as he pulled the other mans desk away from the wall, crawling under it. He flicked his pocket flashlight on, quickly pulling a small USB stick from the back of Danny's tower.

For as smart as the ex-jock was, Danny couldn't think of everything. He took the batteries from the light and shoved the stick in there instead, tucking it safely into an inner, zippered pocket. He crawled from under the desk and put everything back the way it was, taking a final stop at his computer to restart the security cameras. It would look like a glitch from the storm, a small blip in the feed.

He buckled into the car after turning out the lights, at ease with his success. Neither man was aware of the woman – strikingly blond, with calm eyes – watching them.

I

"I wish mom was here to see this. She'd get a real kick out of it. Do you think we could like, get a discount? Maybe we could bring her and your dad once the park is opened to the public?" Scott mused as he tried to settle into the bed. "Stiles?" At the silence that followed he rolled to peer over the edge of the mattress, snorting to himself. Stiles had fallen asleep; his field journal was lying across the lower half of his face, fingers still curled loosely over the worn leather. His pencil had rolled until it was almost under the bed and he was starting to snore. Scott dragged one of the sheets from the bed, letting it drop onto his friend. If he wanted to sleep on the floor, that was fine.

A clap of thunder had his entire body jerking, eyes narrowing into slits. The restless, trapped feeling was washing over him again. He tried to shake it off, telling himself that it was just from being in a strange place, with all the excitement of his life's work laid before him, real finally. _Strange smells, strange sounds, strange bed_, he thought, grimacing at another bang. Ever since the accident, storms had bothered him in a simple way. Thunder could be loud and it tended to hurt his ears. Much like everything else, he'd grown accustomed to handling the noise.

_You travel all the time_.

Ruthlessly, he stomped the logical side of his brain down. Yes, he travelled all the time – but never to an island before. This was new, was all.

Unable to settle without the endless chatter he and Stiles normally held, Scott dragged himself from the bed and towards the door. The halls outside were dark, the lights having been shut down for the night. He strained his ears –

Erica and Boyd were...in the same room, two doors down. _That_ was interesting. They were asleep, as far as he could tell. Derek was awake, though. He could hear the steady _thump thump_ of the other man's heart and the soft rustle of book pages being turned. Every few moments the man would make a quiet noise, bed creaking as he shifted his weight. It would appear that Scott wasn't the only one restless tonight.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, helping him figure his way back downstairs. The front doors had an alarm set up – the little red light blinking mockingly at him. The urge to be _out_ was wriggling deep inside of him, making his skin crawl. He shook his body twice, tried to push the feeling away, then decided he would go up. There had to be roof access somewhere. He _needed_ to go outside. If there wasn't a roof, he'd crack a window, no matter how many questions that would bring tomorrow.

After what felt like hours but was, in reality, only three staircases and a sharp left turn, Scott was standing in front of the roofs access door. There were no security locks on this one; Just a standard deadbolt, unlocked, and he pushed the heavy metal barrier out of the way – he took a second to snort, thinking _of course no squeaky hinges_, giving a mental kudos to whoever did the upkeep here. The entire place was meticulously crafted and cared for, from the floors to the shiny doorknobs.

He climbed the final staircase with a breath of relief, tensely coiled muscles loosening with every step he took. Freedom was within arm's reach. He shouldered the final door out of the way, eyelids fluttering shut as he took his first step onto the roof.

It smelled like rain but – muggy. Murky. Like the rain wasn't quite reaching him, wasn't as strong as he'd thought. Contained. He opened his eyes slowly, heart shuddering to a stop before beginning to _hammer_. The entire roof was glassed in. _The entire roof was glassed in_. The panes were fogged over lightly and he moved to the nearest wall of windows, pressing his forehead to the cool moisture there. His heart continued its uneven beat and he took a deep breath; tried to find an anchor. It didn't really help.

The beast he kept locked inside writhed under his skin, claws scraping at his insides until they felt raw. The urge to hunt, to run, to be _free_ pounded inside his head, until his vision blurred with red. The breath he'd been holding huffed out against the pane, half lidded eyes catching sight of bitter-gold in his reflection. His instincts were overwhelming everything – drowning out the rain, the sharp flavor of _danger_ that had been lingering on the back of his tongue since he'd arrived. A howl began building in his throat as his not quite human nails sank into the glass, digging deep grooves when he clenched his fists, struggling for control like he was sixteen again.

He's been okay for so _long_, but the need to breathe in fresh air, to move, is so stifling he can hardly stand it.

There was a distant part of his head that was aware of quiet footsteps and a second heartbeat. The monster inside him focused on that; the stutter of pumping blood beneath paper thin flesh, humming sweetly through dark blue veins. The gentle rasp of silk pants, swish sliding brush against each other with every slow movement. The smell of wildflowers and artificial strawberries – _shampoo_ – coating cinnamon and musk, swirled with the sour tang of nervous sweat.

Scott hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes again. He forced them open to stare into his own calm, brown eyes. Turning his gaze a little to the left, he watched Allison stand near the doorway to the roof, sweet in her baggy silk pajamas, hair loose around her shoulders. "Dr McCall?" She asked finally, voice hesitant as she stepped closer.

"Scott." He replied lowly, remembering he'd already asked her not to call him doctor. It was always a shock to remember that he _was_ a doctor, not a mister, but...he was Scott. Just Scott. "Just call me Scott." There was an edge of pleading to his words, one that made Allison's sleepy eyes soften further.

"I like to come up here at night." She told him as he moved to his side, wiping some mist away with her sleeve. "Normally when I can't sleep. But it's nice on nights like this too – I can sit here and just let the rain wash over me, without getting wet or cold." She tilted her face skyward as a flash of lightening streaked across them. It illuminated her, gave her an edge that looked dangerous with the shadows it cast under her eyes, across her nose. "We used to live in a small house. Our porch had a tin roof. There was nothing I liked more than sitting outside with my aunt during a storm and listening to the rain fall. There's just something soothing about it. Are you okay?" She turned her attention back to him, lips pulled to the side in a smile.

Scott huffed out a laugh, gobsmacked. "Better now. A lot better. Did you know I was up here?"

"No. I couldn't sleep; I guess I'm worried. We have a lot riding on you guys right now." She added playfully, bumping her hip lightly against his. He glanced down, oddly amused with her sock-clad feet.

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep either. I don't really like storms." She raised her eyebrows at him, and he cocked his head. "They're unpredictable. You never know what's going to happen."

"That's the beauty of them. Come on. I'm going to go make a cup of tea and steal some cake." She offered her hand to him and he took it, brushing his thumb across her pulse. Her scent had lost the cloying nervousness it had held moments ago, replaced by a soft lilt of arousal that had him hardening in his sleeping pants. He ignored it, letting her wind him through the halls of the hotel until they were in the kitchen. The kitchen, unlike the rest of the building, wasn't ornately decorated. The entire thing was sleek, sharp edges of glittering metal. There was a light on, above one of the stoves, tossing a soft glow across the corner of the room. Apparently that was all Allison needed to wander around and get everything ready.

They sat on one of the counters, Allison winking at him and telling him not to tell Lydia, as it was probably a health code violation in some country, somewhere. He wasn't fond of tea but he drank it between bites of chocolate mousse cake, head eventually going fuzzy with sleep.

They shared stories of their mutually intense childhoods. Scott had played Lacrosse, Allison knew archery and gymnastics. Scott had basic CPR and first aid training, as well as his life guard certificate, and an extensive knowledge of veterinary studies. Allison had studied chemistry, and has gone to school to become a paramedic – which she'd succeeded at, but given up in favor of travelling with her family, wanting to see the world. She'd moved a lot as a child, never having a steady home, and envied Scott of his house, which had belonged to his grandparents before his mother, and which would be his when he finally decided to settle. Scott enjoyed travelling, but he hated being closed in, suffering from claustrophobia. Allison liked small places and high vantage points, feeling exposed without walls to box her in.

They talked until Allison's head began to droop. "We should go to bed." Scott slurred around a yawn, slipping off the counter to stretch. His back popped loudly, a sound that made Allison grimace lightly, and he helped her down off her ledge, smiling sleepily at her. She was pretty like this; cloudy eyes and soft, drooping mouth. "I'll walk you to your room?"

"Better not. My dad's a light sleeper he'll hear me going to my room. If he sees you we'll never hear the end of it."

"You're an adult." Scott replied, quietly amused as they slipped from the kitchen.

"Twenty eight." She agreed. "But it doesn't change the fact that my dad is just this side of insanely over protective."

"Trust me. Stiles' dad is the Sheriff back home – and my mom isn't much to sniff at either." He stroked her hair behind her ear, head cocking to the side. "Can I kiss you right now?"

She thought it was sweet that he asked, nudging her nose against his as their lips brushed, feather light. They were interrupted by another yawn that had her giggling sleepily, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. Go get some rest. We have an early day tomorrow; lab tour and park tour." She walked away from him backwards, letting her feet slide against the tile. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight Scott."

Sulkily, he watched her disappear through the kitchen doors. "Night Allison."

He sniffed his way back to his room, careful not to make too much noise when he finally found his way. Stiles woke anyway; peering at him in the dark, with eyes that told Scott his friend wasn't even half conscious yet. "Go back to sleep." He muttered, tugging the now rumpled field guide from Stiles' hand. "I'm okay." With a snort, the shorter haired man settled back into the plush carpet.

Sleep found Scott easy after that even as the beast he housed prowled beneath his flesh, amber eyes and dark brown ears intent.


	3. Chapter 3

I

Derek followed his nose back towards the kitchen, eyes shadowed with his lack of sleep. There were bags forming and he knew he looked like Hell, unshaven and grouchy. He'd spent a restless night reading in bed, his inner monster snarling at him in outrage. He'd have been able to sleep if he'd tried, he knew. He just also knew that if he'd allowed himself to loosen his hold his other half might have taken control and his other half was a deal more reckless than him. Not for the first time in his life and if he were being honest, probably not for the last, Derek cursed the idiot that was Jackson Whittemore. Leave it to his first creation to fuck up so monumentally.

The coffee scent was fast approaching, so Derek made the effort to pull himself from his thoughts, bleary eyes fixing on the source. He was mildly surprised.

Stiles was seated on a dark red armchair, half full mug of coffee balanced carefully on his slowly bouncing knee. He was making sure not to spill, nervous motions – _tics_; they were called nervous _tics_ – controlled despite being something that he couldn't quite stop. He had a small paper plate on the end table, a half eaten butterless croissant on top of that. The younger man – he couldn't be older than twenty eight, four years Derek's junior – looked oddly serious. His gaze was bright and intent with focus as he stroked his pencil across the creamy pages of a leather bound book.

The person sitting across from where Derek was looked nothing like the energetic, foolish little creature he'd met the day prior.

This person was a man on a mission. It was easy to forget that Stiles was only a few IQ points away from being legally declared a genius, a studied doctor of the prehistoric. It was an interesting side to glimpse, enthralling in the way that it differed so vastly from the person he'd _thought_ he met. This was a Stiles only a handful of people knew, the man Scott trusted to stand beside him and watch his back.

Realizing that his staring was beginning to tiptoe into 'creep' territory, Derek peeled himself away from the doorway, clearing his throat.

The calmness in the room didn't shatter as he'd feared. "Morning. Coffee's on the table over there." Stiles gestured with his pencil before letting his gaze drift back to the journal on his lap.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked as he poured him a cup of coffee, black. He didn't hesitate to snag a raspberry danish off the breakfast display, wondering if Lydia remembered they were his favorite or if it was just something that they served here at the hotel.

"Notes. You're in my light." Stiles added absently, chewing the tip of his charcoal pencil. Derek obligingly stepped to the side, taking a seat at the free armchair on Stiles' right as opposed to the love seat on the left. The room was as tastefully done as the rest of the hotel; a small sitting room placed discreetly off to the side of the kitchen.

He managed to catch sight of one of Stiles' pages, eyebrows shooting up as he glanced at the potted plant that acted as a centrepiece to the breakfast that was laid out. "That's pretty good." He offered, taking a bite of pastry. "You draw often?"

"Small talk? You don't strike me as the type." Stiles sipped at his own coffee, attention never leaving his book. "Not as much as I'd like. It's slower than photography, but I'm better at it than I am at taking pictures." He handed the book over after a final stroke of his pencil, settling more comfortably in the chair.

Derek lapped a stray pastry flake off his upper lip before setting his food aside in favor of the book. He flipped through pages of painstakingly detailed sketches, not really understanding the scientific babble chicken scratched in between drawings. "They're all plants?" He ignored the small talk comment. He could act civilised when he felt like it.

"I study plants." Stiles reminded him, his face developing a bit of the energetic glow that Derek originally expected from him. He suspected that Stiles, in his eagerness to see and do everything, often lost control of himself. "I have a smaller book for other things. We were in Mexico last year and I fell in love with some of the local birds, I drew them for days until I got them right." He sounded amused as he finished his coffee. "You look tired. Rough night?"

Derek's face pulled into a scowl, which only served to make Stiles grin wider. "Not that it's any of your business but yes, I had a hard time sleeping."

"Anything to do with Jackson?" Now he sounded downright sly. Derek stared back at him blankly. "I saw him sneaking out of the bathroom ahead of you yesterday." There was _definitely_ a suggestive tone, then.

Derek snarled; watched the way Stiles' brow furrowed as his chin automatically dipped to cover his throat. Confusion struck him and he opened his mouth to question the behaviour, getting cut off as Scott stumbled blindly into the room.

"Coffee." He groaned, doing a rather impressive zombie impersonation. "Stiles." He was _whining_, dragging the syllables out to the point of ear splittingly annoying.

"Dude use your sniffer, and get it yourself. I am not your mother, you are not sick and _no_. Homesick is not a type of sick. Don't puppy eye me!" Stiles was grinning, clearly entertained by his closest friends pain. "This is what you get for staying up all night man. Don't think I forgot you sneaking in!"

"Whatever dude." Scott yawned around his cup, cringing away when the coffee scalded his tongue. "Every fucking time!" He hissed, flapping a hand at his mouth. "Jesus. How the Hell are you not huddled over right now, you spent all night on the floor."

"My bed back at the trailer is probably harder than the carpets in this place." Stiles deadpanned back, before turning a beaming smile to Lydia when the woman entered the room. "Good morning my lovely hostess."

She eyed him, gaze flat. "Everyone else has eaten. If you three are ready we can begin the first part of the tour."

"First part?" Stiles asked, sliding gracelessly from his chair. Derek watched this new transformation curiously. Stiles, he realized, was a chameleon – he'd blend into whatever background was offered to him. The only real question was _why_ someone so smart would want to stay so hidden.

I

"Shut up, Stiles." Scott hissed quietly as his friend as they trailed behind Allison and Lydia. Hale and his group of consultants were walking several feet behind, murmuring to one another in hushed tones. "I know you don't like him, but _stop_." He eyed Stiles up and down, head cocking to the side. "Why don't you like him anyway?"

"The dude is a total creep, Scott." Stiles grumbled, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His grip on his journal was white knuckled; every now and again he'd lift a hand to fiddle with the pencil tucked behind his ear. "I've been saying that since day one."

"Who?" Allison asked, peering over her shoulder at the men.

"Daehler."

Allison's brow furrowed. "Matt? Oh come on Stiles, he's harmless." She gave him an encouraging smile. "I've known him for years now."

"Yeah me too, and I'm tellin' ya. The dude is a total flipping creep." Stiles tossed his arms into the air, swore, then dropped into a crouch to pick up his book again. They'd bumped into Matt and Danny on the way to the labs, which they'd still yet to reach. "I love Danny, though."

"Who doesn't love Danny?" Lydia added, surprising the whole group. She hitched an eyebrow at them, lips pulling into a scowl. "Please refrain from speaking poorly of my employees. Remember, I've hired you all, and they're your colleagues. I won't tolerate this sort of behaviour for very long." She lifted the key hanging round her neck, and tucked it into the lock of the thick steel door they'd stopped it. "Regardless, we're here. Allison, I trust you can take this over for now? I've got to meet with your father."

"Of course, Lydia. Be careful." Allison added, the words slipping from her mouth like it was something she said several times a day.

The redhead waved a hand in Allison's direction, using the same one to shove Boyd to the side so she could pass. The large man rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that had Scott snorting in laughter. Stiles gave him a questioning look but his friend merely shook his head.

The lab was massive. There were cubicles scattered throughout it, glass walled to better see the employees. White coated men and women wandered in and out, twisting easily between pieces of tech, noses buried in their clipboards. The centre of the room was bare save for five round tables, set up in a sort of circle. As they got closer, Stiles realized they weren't tables.

They were incubation trays. His breath caught in his throat as he reached towards an egg, fingers stroking lightly across the shell. It was _warm_. He could hear his own heart thundering in his ears as she carefully scooped the egg into his hands, testing the weight of it. He'd dug up eggs before – they'd unearthed a few nests, actually, him and Scott. Seeing one for real, here, though...His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he took a slow breath through his nose. "Ostrich?" He asked, quietly, chewing on his lower lip.

"Good eye Dr Stilinski."

Stiles glanced away from the egg as a mechanic arm twisted around to snatch it away, nestling it once more in the hay that made the nest. The man speaking was broad, dark skinned. He had kind eyes although they looked guarded, similar to the small smile on his lips. "Dr Deaton." He offered his hand to shake. "I'm the head veterinary technician here on the island. Do you know anything about genetics, or was the ostrich a guess?"

"Nothing else lays eggs that big." Stiles said, shrugging his shoulders as he looked around. He was aware of Scott hovering at his shoulder, the way his friend was shaking lightly, probably in excitement. "Why are the eggs here?" He asked, curious as he turned to poke around at another incubator. No one bothered to stop him, so he assumed it was alright. Plus he liked to touch things – it made them feel more real. Scott and the others hadn't really moved, but Stiles pushed them out of his mind as he continued his exploration.

"We control the dinosaur population." At Stiles' confused _hmm_, Deaton elaborated. "All of the dinosaurs on the Island are female. The only way they reproduce is through us, here in the lab. It's a security measure, one we find quite effective. We control what comes into the park, and nothing ever leaves." The man took a clipboard from a floppy haired blond. "Thank you. This is Doctor Isaac Lahey, my assistant. He oversees the incubation and hatching process when Lydia is absent." He introduced, nodding at Isaac. "If you have any other questions Dr Lahey can assist you. I'm afraid I have to return to my work. Have a nice trip. Hopefully we'll be seeing each other shortly." He paused for a moment as he passed Derek, offering the man one of those soft, secret smiles.

Derek raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowed into slits. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Deaton huffed out a small laugh. "I'm afraid I can't say you do." Without another word he slipped into one of the glass cubicles, climbing steadily up a small staircase found behind it.

"So, can I call you Isaac or do you prefer Dr Lahey?" Stiles shot out, already in questioning mode. His book was stretched out over an arm as he struggled to sketch the eggs, quickly.

"Isaac's fine." The man said, eyes focused firmly on the ground.

"Great. What temperature do you keep the eggs at? How are you making certain that all the dinosaurs are female?" Isaac seemed surprised by the questions, but answered them efficiently as they poured out one after the other. After fifteen minutes of in depth discussion, the blond seemed more relaxed, head no longer ducked down near his chest.

"So you use amber?"

"Mhm. Mosquitoes. They've existed for millions of years. Lydia was the one who thought it out. We extract the residual blood from the fossilized mosquitoes and fill in the missing DNA with amphibian DNA. In the end we're left with a full strain. We started with smaller dinosaurs, the compy's, to see how well it would work. When it was a success we started moving up to larger species."

"How do you know they won't escape, though?" Derek asked, voice flat as he glared down at an egg. It was _moving_.

"She's close to hatching." Isaac mused, sounding almost wistful. "We have cameras on twenty four seven to make sure there aren't any escapes, and the fences are all electric. When the dinosaurs touch them, they get a fifty thousand volt shock. It's a great deterrent. But Lydia put measures in place in case anyone does escape. All of the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park require a special drug that we give them every three days. Without it, their body systematically shuts down and they die. The buildings are all made to withstand any escapees. Thus far, no one has gotten out and there hasn't been any casualties."

Derek lifted his head slowly to meet Isaac's gaze.

Scott had heard it too; there had been a blip in Isaac's heartbeat, a small jump that signified he was lying. Neither man could voice it without opening several other cans of worms, so they dropped it. Derek was certain he'd be able to corner Lydia or Jackson long enough to get those particular questions out of the way.

Not that he particularly cared. Whoever died on this Island was their business, not his. It only proved him right anyway, and if they couldn't see how wrong they were, that was their perogative. So long as he got off the Island as soon as physically possible, it didn't matter.

Stiles was sitting perched on the edge of an incubator, clinging eagerly to everything that Isaac said. The blond was flushed with his own excitement, arms moving animatedly as he gazed adoringly at the eggs around him.

He was interrupted by a chirp.

"What the _fuck_ is that?" Scott breathed, jaw slack.

Isaac shrugged uncomfortably. "This is Jules. She's harmless."

They listened to Scott swallow audibly as he watched the two foot reptile click-clack her way across the room, head bobbing in a manner so similar to a chicken it was almost comedic. "That's a. She's a." He paused, right hand clenching into a fist. His head lifted and swiveled, and Derek felt his breath catch as glowing gold eyes slid right past him. Scott only had eyes for Stiles. "That's a velociraptor." He croaked, voice sounding like he'd gargled glass. "_Stiles_, what did they _do_?"

Stiles licked his lips and stared past Scott, focused entirely on the chirping monstrosity that was nipping at Isaac's slack fingers. "I don't know Scott. But you gotta calm down, buddy. Okay?"

Allison laid her hand on Scott's shoulder, still standing behind and to the side of him. "Dr McCall?"

"Maybe it's time you moved onto the next part of your tour." Isaac muttered in a tight voice, knuckles brushing over Jules' head.

"Outside?" Stiles asked, already halfway to his friend. Scott's eyes were fading back to their usual plain brown.

"Outside." Isaac agreed, shifting until his legs had covered the petite dinosaur from sight.

"Outside is good. C'mon Scott, follow Allison." Stiles made a shooing motion at the woman, arms flailing around. He smacked Derek in the head with his book _twice_ before the darker haired man managed to catch his wrist and force it back down to his side. "Outside, Allison. Scott needs fresh air. And things."

"And things?" Allison asked worriedly, already ushering everyone out the door. It clicked locked behind them, a sharp hissing noise as the door slid into place. "Scott she really is harmless. She's never hurt anyone."

"Just because she hasn't doesn't mean she won't."

And really, it sounded like Scott was talking from experience. Derek exchanged a glance with both Erica and Boyd, understanding exactly how Scott felt.

It was easy to pick out a monster in a crowd.

After all, you always recognize yourself.

I

They were halfway to the Jeeps when they bumped into someone Derek could have gone the next three lifetimes without seeing. "My, my, my." She purred, blond hair bouncing around her shoulders as she strutted away from Chris and Victoria. She walked like a cat, one foot in front of the other; sleek and sexy.

She wasn't a cat, though. Derek knew her to be a snake. "Someone's sure filled out the last few years. Why didn't you tell me we had such a yummy guest, Allison?" Kate stroked the nail of her pointer finger down Derek's scruffy cheek, clicking her tongue all the while. "Long time no see Derek. How's your uncle?"

Derek grit his teeth and forced himself to a calm place. "Kate." He said in greeting, catching her hand and forcing it away from his face. "It's been a while." He smiled humorlessly, corner of his teeth showing. She laughed back at him lightly, eyes bright with the thrill of the danger. Of course. Of course she would be here – how could he not have made the connection? Allison looked _so much_ like her. They had the same last name. He wondered just how long Jackson had been planning this little _get together_, wondered what he'd done to deserve _this_ of all things.

He'd rather be neck deep in baby mythical kanimas, thank you.

_It's this place_. A voice murmured in the back of his head _there's something not right here, Derek. _The words ring like truth, laced with the low gravel of his beast; alert and upset, hackles raised and eyes wary.

They were on an island full of dinosaurs and werewolves and _Kate_.

What could possibly go wrong?

Derek mentally promised himself that yes. He was going to kill Jackson for this, the backstabbing, slimy, lizard bastard.

"Quite a few years." The woman crooned, tapping the heel of her boot on the ground. It was like no one else was there anymore – their worlds had narrowed down, for a moment, to each other. He could see the hate lurking in her eyes. "Did you ever graduate?"

Allison shoved her way between the two, tossing her parents a confused look. Her father looked just as lost as she did, although her mother looked downright murderous. "This is my aunt Kate, she helps with security here." Allison explained to the rest of the group, using her body to nudge her aunt further away from the glaring Hale. "These are the consultants Jackson and Lydia brought in to okay the Island. You know Mister Hale?"

Kate tossed her hair, tapping the gun at her hip. "We have a bit of a past." Her eyes slid down his body, leaving a skin crawling sense of _wrong_ on him. "We fell out of touch a few years ago." She had always been good at picking up on others discomfort – Derek personally thought it to be one of her greatest, most horrible talents – and was clearly in tune with the tension swirling in the group of misfits huddled near the vehicles. "For the better, I'm sure." She added, eyes turning towards the sky. A clap of thunder sounded, vibrating through the air. She smiled. "Anyway, you kids have fun. I've got a few patrols to get started. I'll be sure to catch you later tonight." Kate gave Derek a final once over, before tossing a careless wave in the direction of her brother.

No one spoke until the blond had disappeared into her own, non-protocol vehicle. Derek listened to the engine until it had moved far enough away that the rumble of the storm swallowed the noise.

"Sorry." Allison said, honestly. Her parents had wandered off as well, sharing secret glances between themselves as they headed back towards the building. "She can be a bit much."

Derek bit his tongue on that one. Kate could be many, many things he knew. Still, Allison hadn't done anything wrong thus far, and there was no point in digging up old wounds just to make a jab at a woman who no longer meant anything to him. Instead he tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and stalked towards one of the vehicles, acutely aware of Stiles following along behind him.

He wasn't really surprised when he ended up shoved in the back of a Jeep with Stilinski and McCall. It seemed it would become a regular occurrence for as long as they were on the Island. And, as much as he'd told himself not to leave his own team unguarded, he knew – instinctively – that there was nothing to fear from Allison. He let Erica and Boyd clamber into the second Jeep with her with a slight incline of his head.

I

"I'm going for lunch." Danny said absently, smiling at the cameras he was partially focused on. He was listening to Stiles ramble on about the mating habits of triceratops to an irate looking Derek – the older man kept saying he didn't _care_, but Stiles wasn't having any of it.

The McCall kid looked a bit worked up still, but his attention had turned to Allison; inquisitive eyes focused on her as she quietly – hardly audible over the stream of Stiles' chatter – pointed out cameras and security measures. He caught her smiling at the camera in the back of the Jeep, and allowed a small smile of his own to grace his face. He genuinely liked Allison. She'd been standoffish when she'd first arrived, clearly not wanting to be so close to her parents, but the time on the Island had changed her. As Lydia's best friend she'd been given freedoms, and he'd caught her stretched out in the grass surrounded by tropical birds on more than one occasion.

It might just be an Island but it was a large one; there were hundreds of nooks and crannies where one could go to escape their worries, and Allison had made the most of it. She knew, like all the employees, that there wasn't any _real_ privacy. She just trusted Danny to be discreet.

Danny, being Danny, fully lived up to that expectation.

"Are you going with Lydia and Jackson?" Matt didn't glance up from his own monitor, mug of coffee resting against his chin.

"Mhm. You heading out too?"

"No."

"Want me to bring you anything?" Danny logged off and tossed his backpack over his shoulder as he stood.

"No, I'm okay thanks. I'll go grab a bite when you get back." Matt waved a hand in his direction, seemingly content in his spot.

He waited until Danny had left, his computer screen flashing the login page. He watched his own cameras carefully until he could see the taller, darker skinned man disappear into one of the highly secret meeting rooms on the third floor. The lock clicked into place and Matt released a breath he hadn't known he was holding, reaching into his bag to pull out the usb stick. He glanced at the time, feeling his stomach settle. He still had thirty minutes. He could do this in thirty minutes.

He slid into Danny's chair as fast as possible, popping the usb into a free port. The login screen disappeared, giving way to one of the most complex security panels he'd ever seen. Matt rolled his eyes. Danny was a great guy, but he was a bit paranoid.

_Rightfully so_, he mused, smirking a bit as he began navigating his way through the programs. He'd have to shut down the automatic locking mechanism, as well as the cameras and, as much as the thought disturbed him, the fences. Gerard had said to leave a twenty minute time frame up, where the systems would reboot themselves and come back online. Only Matt wasn't stupid – he'd take the usb with him, and leave the systems down. He could boot from the boat – Gerard was bringing him a boat, it was part of their arrangement – and it would be wonderful extra leverage. He knew for certain that the photographs he had, the evidence, wouldn't be enough to deter Gerard from trying anything _funny_.

He knew, too, that the reason he'd been hired was because none of the Argent's were technologically minded enough to get away with it, without getting caught. Yes, he'd made sure to cover his tracks good and well, he thought as the system began its countdown to _shut down_. He'd uploaded a small virus. One that Danny, given the right amount of time, would probably be able to get rid of.

But then he'd have to manually reboot too, and that would just be _messy_. Matt bit back a snort as he once again tucked the usb into his flashlight, standing up from the chair.

He was discreet as he passed by lab techs in the hall. Smile, wave, a dip of his head. No one so much as spared him a second glance, as _usual_, and the bitter feeling he had at that slipped away with the thought of how much money he was going to make. These people would all be stuck here under Lydia's perfectly manicured thumb, while he'd be living it up in Europe. He'd be the one to have the last laugh, and he'd sit back and watch the news as the WMGG lost everything.

The embryos weren't as hard to steal as he'd thought; they didn't even have a tech posted at the doors. It was just a matter of walking in and opening the freezing compartments, humming to himself as he picked up _tyrannosaur, triceratops, pteradon, pachycepholosaur, ankylosaur_, tucking them all neatly into the container he'd created _just_ for the occasion.

With a skip in his step, Matt took a kitchen staff exit out the back door to where a discreet blue car sat waiting for him.

I

Kate trailed her tongue over her lower lip, watching Gerard from the corner of her eye. The man wasn't pacing, but he might as well be for as uneasy as he was. To the untrained, unfamiliar eye, the eldest Argent would appear to be cool as a cucumber. Kate could see the flicker of emotion on his face, the way he glanced down at his watch exactly every thirty five seconds. He was nervous.

Rightfully so, too. Daehler was a creep, and a flake, and Kate was going to be happy to wipe her hands of him. She still felt a note of resentment deep in her gut, knowing that daddy dearest had merrily offered up _her_ niece to ensure the safe delivery of the embryos. Still; it was hard to be too angry, especially after seeing _Derek_.

That had been a treat. Kate tended to stay out of the way of the WMGG founders, not really caring or worrying over who they let on the Island. Seeing Derek had been a pleasant surprise, the taste of her humor thick on the back of her tongue. She'd like to see him again before she left – which wouldn't be for a while. After all, it wouldn't look good on her if she up and disappeared right after Matt. Best to blame it all on the little creep and play it safe from the sidelines, no matter how boring waiting could be.

Yes, she was certain she'd be seeing Derek before any of them left. What with the storm and all. She was careful though, not to utter a word of the Hale's to her father. Lord only knew what the man would do if he found out one of the few remaining was _here_. Their entire plan to overthrow WMGG would be completely ruined. Gerard was, by nature, a creature of vengeance and revenge.

"Relax, he'll show." She said, arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her gun was a comforting presence nestled on her hip, but she knew she wouldn't need it.

Like clockwork, footsteps began to fall upon the dock. She spared a glance at the rolling water, narrowing her eyes against the rain.

Matt narrowed his eyes. "You're Kate."

"And you're Matt." She smiled, all teeth, and turned around to collect a briefcase from her father. Gerard was watching Matt with a blank expression, beady black eyes emotionless as they had a bit of a stare off. "As promised, Daehler." She tossed the case onto the ground between them. It wasn't as if the kid would run – and it wasn't as if Kate couldn't catch him. She watched as Matt crouched to survey his earnings.

Seemingly pleased, he pushed the case behind himself and stood. It was mere seven steps until he was handing over the canister full of history come alive. "Pleasure doing business with you." He said, dryly, lips twisted into a cruel little smirk. He looked past her to the boat he was to board – a small one, probably wouldn't even be able to hold up against the waves of the storm.

Kate laughed, rich and deep in the back of her throat. "Pleasure's been ours." She crooned.

In a movement he wasn't expecting, she lunged. Her ankle hooked hard around his and he stumbled, arms shooting out as he lost his balance. There was a split second where her heart raced, catching the look on his face – open, unadulterated fear. Pure _panic_. It was exhilarating.

The moment was over as soon as Matt Daehler took on too many steps backwards; his heel hit the edge of the dock and without a further nudge, he toppled right over the edge.

Kate stood looking down as Matt was swallowed by the vicious waters, handing her father the canister when he prompted her for it.

Matt was gone, a loose end all tied up.

What they didn't know was that he'd taken the entire Island down with him.


	4. Chapter 4

An: like I said, sorry last chapter was a bit ah, hectic. Gettin' the ball rolling, you know how it goes. I know it doesn't follow the exact storyline of Jurassic Park, but, you know. Fanfiction...anyway, here's chapter four. Enjoy.

I

"Can someone please tell me why we've stopped moving?" Derek asked, voice eerily, sugary sweet as he stared Allison down in particular. The woman's heart skipped a beat, soft scent of fear lacing its way through the Jeep. He could hear her swallowing tensely, watched the way her eyes darted to the console.

"I don't know. That's a very good question, give me just one minute." She pressed a green button, clearing her throat "Danny we've got a problem on the track." He realized it was some kind of built in radio system, and settled into his seat to wait her out. "Danny? Can you hear me? Hello?" Allison tapped at the microphone, heart beating a bit faster when there was no response. She reared back to glance out the fogged window. "We're near the tryke paddock." She breathed out on a sigh of relief. "Just stay here, I'm going to go see if I can find a satellite phone." They were posted all over the Island; if she could call one, it'd only be a matter of dialing Lydia directly. Then this entire mess would be sorted out.

She chewed on her lower lip nervously. Thus far? The tour wasn't going well. First, Scott had freaked out in the lab over Jules. Now the Jeeps were broken down. She specifically didn't mention what lovely dinosaur could be found to the right of them.

They went alphabetically on the main tour. Triceratops to the left.

Tyrannosaur to the right. A chill ran up her spine at the thought of what was waiting just beyond the fences, and she quieted herself with the thought that there were guns in the trunk. Her dad had taught her how to shoot at a young age, something that had irritated her then. She was glad for it now.

_It's probably just a blip from the storm, Allison_ she scolded herself as she reached below her seat for night goggles. _This is nothing. Danny didn't answer because he's busy getting the systems up and running. Everything will be back to normal in no time._ It wasn't evening yet, but the clouds had darkened further, sky only lit occasionally by a brilliant streak of lightening. She'd need the goggles.

"I'm not letting you go out there alone." Scott deadpanned, undoing his own seatbelt and sliding closer to her.

"I can take care of myself Scott." She flashed him a humorless smile. "Not that there's even anything to worry about. Just stay here and stay dry, I'll be back as soon as I radio the main building."

Scott wasn't budging. "I'm going with you."

Derek watched the exchange boredly, one ear listening for his companions in the other vehicle. They were alone, of course, parked about fifteen feet behind him. Neither of them had moved to exit yet, and when he glanced over the shoulder, neither of them appeared concerned. Which was good. He didn't want them getting _upset_. "Can we stop arguing and just get this show on the road?" He snapped, glaring at Allison when the woman snapped her own sharp gaze towards him. "_I'll_ go if it'll shut you two up."

Stiles made a quiet noise of amusement, face plastered to the glass of the window.

Allison sighed, heavily. "Fine. Scott, you can come with me." She pulled two plastic ponchos from the glove compartment, handing one over to Scott. They were flimsy, light blue. Wouldn't do much to keep the chill of the rainwater out, but it'd keep them dry at the very least. "Come on. The faster we get this over and done with, the faster we can get back to the tour." The words sounded weak even to her own ears. She knew there wouldn't be more of a tour. Derek looked murderous and Scott was on edge. As soon as they got back on the road, they'd want to go inside to the main building. Her gut clenched with the bland feeling of failure. Of course. Of course, it would be like this when their _everything_ was riding on these people's opinions.

She took a deep breath and slid the door open, jerking the hood up as she took her first step outside. The rain had gotten deep, at least up to her ankles, and that was on the road. She was loathe to think about what the grass would be like.

Allison led the way with a familiarity that came from years of practice. She'd always been sure footed, but the Island was her _home_, and while the back roads and grass trails might seem impossible to an outsider, she had the Island mapped better than the back of her hand. She was aware of Scott behind her, although she couldn't hear him; his steps were lighter than hers.

The first phone they got to was disconnected. Literally. She groaned softly as she stooped to pick it up from the mud. The pole was knocked over completely, dead wires lying haphazardly across the ground. "We're going to have to go deeper." She called over the rain, swiping a muddy hand across her face. She turned to glance at Scott, surprised by how close he was. "There's another landline further into the paddock." She explained as he nodded. "It'll probably be another twenty minute walk. Do you want to go back to the car?"

"No. Stiles won't worry he knows I can handle myself." Scott argued, jerking his chin in the general direction of _forward_. "Lead the way."

His hand settled warm and heavy over the small of her back as they stepped from the clear grass path into the overgrown tropical forest. Scott took deep, calming breaths, but when he was certain Allison wasn't looking he let his eyes go gold. The world turned to red but at least he could see now. He'd have to rely on his eyes; thanks to the weather, his nose and ears were failing him.

It was just another one of the many things that Scott McCall would come to regret.

I

"They've been gone for a while." Stiles said, suddenly. His leg was jittering up and down, and his thumb was bleeding from where he'd chewed right into the cuticle. He wasn't even looking at Derek, and the darker haired man wondered if he was even _talking_ to him. Stiles seemed like the kind of person who would think aloud. "They've been gone for a while and the Jeep's aren't working." He bent forward, head between his knees as he rustled underneath the seat, looking for another pair of night goggles. "And I can't see for shit. Some tour, huh?" Ah, then he _was_ talking to Derek.

In response, Derek grunted. "Don't get so worked up. They're fine. What the Hell's going to go wrong in a – what, triceratops exhibit?"

"Despite popular belief tryke's aren't veggiesauruses." Stiles said, brows drawn into a straight line as he stared incredulously at Derek. He only broke his stare when he began tugging the goggles onto his face. "And anyway, it's not the tryke's I'm even worried about dude."

Derek thought of Scott. _Werewolf_. "Then what are you worried about?" He asked exasperatedly. Scott was a _werewolf_ and Stiles clearly knew that. He knew his friend would be able to defend himself if it really came down to it.

"My God, catch up to the program Derek." A finger jabbed him in the centre of the chest as Stiles leaned forward. "The Jeep isn't moving. The radio isn't working. You see the light poles? Guess what? _They're not fucking lit up, asshole_. D'you wanna know what else runs on electricity?" He paused for a split second, not nearly long enough for Derek to even respond. "The _fences_."

"The fences." Derek echoed numbly, eyes darting to the side. He stared out into the dark, eyes already adjusted enough to see past the rain and into the closest paddock. Outside, aside from the weather, everything was _still_. The chatter of birds had come to a halt, even, the trees only rustling with the wind. He strained his ears, trying desperately to hear for any other signs of life.

The only things he heard were the fast yet steady beat of Stiles' heart, and the murmur of Erica and Boyd in the Jeep behind him. He couldn't make out what they were saying, just that they were talking. They were _his_ betas. His responsibility. His heart clenched with the thought that something might happen to them, and he steeled himself to tell Stiles that they were switching vehicles. _Safety in numbers._

_That's why wolves run in packs_.

The Jeep trembled, suddenly. It rocked lightly back and forth, shaking on the track. Derek furrowed his brow and twisted his head around again. Storms made sense; earthquakes did not. "What the fuck is that?" He hissed as he ripped his seatbelt off, neck bent at an odd angle as he twisted further.

"Don't. Move."

"What?" He spun back around to face Stiles, struck by the look on the younger man's face. His already pale complexion had turned sickly white, goggles pushed up onto his forehead. His heart was hammering frantically inside of his chest, throat clicking as he tried to swallow. He was staring out the window to the right, mouth hanging open. His breath, uneven and sour with his fear, fogged the glass in front of him.

Slowly, Derek moved his head to follow Stiles' line of sight.

His hear dropped into his stomach.

Just behind the fencing was a monster from ones worst nightmare. Nearly twenty feet tall and twice as long, its jaw was hanging open in a gaping arch, teeth glinting in the lightening. The tail, thickly muscled and raised high above the ground, swayed lazily back and forth in the air. Short arms were held close to its chest as the beast tilted its head from one side to the other.

_It was watching them_.

The air in front of its face misted with every exhale and Derek watched, transfixed, as a wickedly clawed hand lifted towards the top of the fence. The head rose with it until the beast was staring _down_ at them, head tilting one way and the other curiously.

The hand made contact and everything froze, for just a second – like everything was holding a collective breath, waiting for the moment when they could sigh in relief, adrenaline fleeing their bodies.

Only nothing happened.

Enthralled, the creature lowered its hand further, and further still. There was a _snap_ as the first dead wire sprang free from its metal holding place, whipping back with such force it ripped a sharp cut into the flesh of the dinosaur. Not bothered at all by the sting it continued moving its hand downwards.

_Snap._

_Snap._

_Snap._

The tyrannosaur, despite its small brain and questionable intelligence had clearly realized one thing; it was free.

The monster threw its head back and _roared_, the bellow shaking the sensitive flesh of its cheeks until they vibrated back and forth. Stiles' hands flew up to cover his ears although he didn't duck his head, unable and unwilling to look away.

Derek felt the challenge rising inside of him, was aware that his eyes were turning crimson. He could feel his fangs lengthening at the threat.

In the vehicle behind them, Erica began to scream.

Captured by the noise and the way the woman was trying to struggle out of the door – trying, because Boyd had a tight grip on her, was using his bulk to keep her inside the vehicle – the tyrannosaur lifted a mighty leg. The wires cut into its skin as it began stepping over the cement blockade. They gave way almost all at once, the force of its push dragging a metal beam down until it was bent in half. Its foot slammed into the ground on _their_ side of the paddock, sending the earth into tremors once again.

Startled into movement, a flock of brightly colored tropic birds took flight. The tyrannosaur didn't even seem to notice them, too busy moving towards Derek's only female beta.

Thickly muscled legs bounded by Derek's Jeep with alarming speed, the swaying tail clipping the windshield hard enough it cracked into a hundreds of hairline fractures.

Derek allowed himself to turn once more to Stiles, seeing recognition on the other man's face. "You're –"

"I don't have time for this." He growled back, weight of the alpha heavy in his tone. He let his jaw lengthen further, strengthen with the pull of _his _monster that was clawing at his insides hard enough it _ached_. "Stay here. In the car."

"Dude, you –"

"I have a chance of _surviving_ if I get hit. You? You don't. Stay in the fucking car Stiles." Derek jabbed a clawed finger in Stiles' direction before flinging his own door open. "Any tips?"

"Its visions based on movement. You might be able to outrun it, it's not the fastest." Stiles breathed quickly, plastering himself back against the squeaky leather seat.

Derek didn't so much as spare him another glance. "If I outrun it, it won't keep following me."

Exposed to the rain, the steady thrum of his own heartbeat, and the instinct-thoughts of the wolf, Derek did the only thing he could think to do.

_He_ roared.

The other Jeep was flipped over onto its back, front left tire ripped to shreds and spinning round in useless circles. Intrigued, the beast paused in its exploration, snout snuffling and mouthing along the underside of the vehicle. A slimy tongue snaked out, probably tasted oil – Derek could see the telltale rainbow swirls in a foot shaped puddle – and the massive head reared back, rumbled at the sharp taste. Its attention had been caught, however; a huge eye peered in his direction, pupil dilating until the sickly yellow was nearly entirely engulfed in black.

Derek had faced many a creature in his life. Including insane reptiles. This? This was nothing. Or at the very least that's what he told himself as he dropped into a crouch, fur crawling down his face. He let out another terrible bellow, pleased when the dinosaurs bulk shifted around to face him.

In a brief moment of clarity he realized it was going to charge.

There wasn't time to do anything other than roll to the side, avoid fangs and a foot that would have crushed his bones – would have been a bitch to heal, he knew – and bound back to his feet. It was surprisingly _nimble_ for something so _big_ stumbling only once as it tried to turn. The tail crashed into the side of the Jeep Stiles was in, rolling the vehicle right off the track and onto its side. There was a wordless shout from inside, drowned out by a scream of rage from the dinosaur.

It ended, silence broken by the sound of shattering glass. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, watched as Boyd dragged himself through the windshield he'd shattered, face and arms caked in blood. His eyes were glowing bright through the dark and the rain, fangs glinting as he too gave into instinct.

Together, the two of them could draw it away.

Some of the tension fled Derek's shoulders as he pushed himself up from his crouch, curling his claws forward. He didn't know how much force it would take, or if he'd even be _able_ to, but he had to try to kill it. He had to do _something_.

The world exploded into a flurry of movement; he and Boyd were shifting constantly, moving the dinosaur further and further away from the two cars. Erica had still yet to emerge, and Derek could see that Stiles was trapped, the side of the Jeep that had been hit by the tail caved in in such a way it was impossible to open, the other door pressed tight to the mud.

Distracted as he was keeping an eye on his female beta, Derek missed the sudden turn until it was too late. Razor sharp teeth as long as his hand lashed towards his chest. He braced himself for the pain, wondering if his hand could reach an eye, maybe make it go half blind.

The pain didn't come;

He was hit hard from the side by what felt like a brick wall, although nothing broke. He ate mud a moment after, rolled with the force of his fall. Rolled just in time to see jaws close around Boyd, lift him right up off the fucking ground and _shake him_ like a dog with a _squeak toy_. The familiar, bitter taste of loss coated his inside as Boyd's howl was cut off mid cry.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, slicked the tyrannosaurs teeth. It made them slippery enough that when it went to adjust its grip, it's powerful jaws lost their hold. Boyd was sent careening through the air, and he hit the ground with a wet _smack_, slid through the mud and into a wooden utility shack that had been nestled in a divot of the paddock.

Derek wasn't aware that he was moving until his legs were slipping out from under him and he was sliding through the muck. He hit Boyd harder than he intended, hands grasping at a ruined shirt.

Gold eyes slitted open to watch him, and he bit back a noise of pain.

Boyd was ripped right open. There were parts of him, inside parts, that were hanging partially on the outside and Derek had seen horrible things in his time, had done horrible things, but he had no idea how to fix this. He wasn't a doctor. They could heal, yes, but he might not heal in time to fight off blood loss and intestinal damage. There was a puncture wound low in the hollow of his throat, oozing thick blood as he tried to gurgle out a sentence.

Derek was talking; an endless stream of babble, low to his own ears, telling Boyd it was going to be okay.

"Go get Erica. Get out of here." Boyd manage to croak out, blood pushing out of his mouth with every word, every breath. Derek stopped trying to apply pressure, awestruck.

Only, he understood perfectly what Boyd was trying to say. He was injured. Injured wolves were culled, if they couldn't carry their own weight. "I'll come back for you." He promised, face serious. "Whatever happens, I'll come back. And I _promise_ you, I'll get her out of here safely."

And, as if the fates hadn't cursed him enough, the sound of groaning metal drew his attention behind him.

He twisted around just in time to see it.

The tyrannosaur was after pushing one of the Jeeps further up the road, the bottom nearly gutted right out. It was pushing, and pushing, and the vehicle was tipping precariously upwards, over the bridge that lead across the damn.

Derek's heart stopped, and then jump started. He'd only just pushed himself up to his knees when the car finally tipped and disappeared right over the ledge.

I

Allison screamed as a hand closed over her arm, twisting her around fast enough she almost lost her balance. "Isaac!" She shouted in the man's face, dropping her flashlight to take a swipe at him. "What the Hell are you doing out here?" She asked breathlessly, listening to Scott's noise of irritation from behind her.

"What am I doing out here? Your feet are soaked. What the Hell Allison?" Isaac looked worried, eyes darting around. "Came out to check on a sick tryke." He added. "Got the call from Deaton just as you guys were leaving the lab, but then the lights went out. I was heading to check on the fence and find the radio phone near the road. The dispatch in the truck isn't working." He let her go, crossed his arms tight over his own chest as he looked over her shoulder at Scott.

Allison's heart sank. "The fences." She said, flat. "You were going to check on the fences?"

"The powers out." Isaac admitted, chewing on his lower lip. "I checked the ones on the east of the trykes. No voltage going. They're too stupid to try and get out, I imagine."

"They're not as stupid as you think." Scott interrupted.

Isaac frowned at him. "I've helped raise all the dinosaurs on this Island. I know exactly what they're capable of."

Sensing an argument, Allison jumped back into the conversation. "What do you mean check the phone by the road? There's a phone at the vet station in _this_ paddock, Isaac."

He shook his head. "The line was dead. The phone closer to the road isn't working either?"

"No. But it wasn't just dead; the entire pole got dragged over." Allison shoved the hood off of her head, no longer worried about getting wet. There were bigger, badder things to deal with now. "Who would have cut the lines Isaac?" She was terrified, trying to reign it in. She'd left the guns back with the others. The tryke's were docile with people they knew, but there was no telling if anything else had figure out that the fences had gone down.

She pointedly did not think of the enclosure near the main building, of the vicious bloodthirsty creatures her family had taken a morbid liking to.

"You drove here?" She asked, already shoving past him to go in the direction he'd come from.

"Parked by the vet station." He agreed, gesturing for Scott to follow. "Where are the others?"

Allison felt a pang of guilt. "I left them on the track; I thought we'd be able to get hold of somebody by now. All of the radios seem to be down. I don't know if we'll be able to fit everyone in the truck but we need to at least try. If not, we'll take as many as we can and make a run to the main building. If the radios aren't working before we get there we'll have to make a trip back to pick up the others."

"I have a hitch. We can hook one of the Jeeps to the truck maybe." Isaac clapped a hand over Allison's shoulder, companionably. "Don't worry so much. I'm sure everything's fine. Danny and Matt are probably in the grid room now, getting the park back up and running. Every major park has delays, problems."

"Not every park is full of animals that could _devour_ you." Scott snapped. He was tempted to turn and run back. The rain and dinosaur smell was still drowning out his sense, but his need to get back to his pack, to Stiles, was almost overwhelming. His wolf had been growling near constant, but at the thought of real danger it had begun to whine, low and needy in the back of his head. They were _both_ scared. But Scott had been in tough situations before, and he wasn't about to turn tail and leave Stiles sitting by himself, defenceless.

Allison and Isaac, though, they were defenceless too. He grimaced as the truck – plain black pickup, medical equipment strewn in the bed, as well as a shotgun that Allison shouldered happily – came into sight. "I'll sit in the back." He offered, swinging himself up and over. He nudged a stethoscope away with his foot, forcing thoughts of his mother out of his head. Now wasn't the time to worry about what ifs, although he was grateful that she wasn't around. He only hoped that when all was said and done he'd be able to see her again.

I

Danny was a bit confused when he opened the door to the meeting room, finding that he didn't need his access card to get out. He shrugged it off, ignoring the soft, rich laughter of Lydia behind him. He was certain if he looked that he'd see Jackson with his face buried in her neck, and that just wasn't his thing. He smiled regardless, amused at his old friends, and swung by the kitchen to grab an extra slice of cake before he headed off to the office.

"Hey Matt I'm – Matt?" A wave of irritation washed over him; there was supposed to be someone watching the control room at all times for added security. Leave it to Matt to flake out for a minute to grab food after Danny had already offered to bring him out – he'd have had someone else come in and cover for them for an hour or two.

Still, he'd been gone longer than anticipated – lunch had turned into a detailed discussion over new security measures, shock collars that Victoria had brought to their attention, for their more, ah...dangerous pets. "Matt?" He called out again, dropping his backpack by the door as he strode over to the computer.

There were words flashing across his screen. Words that _should not be there_.

Panicked, he fell into his chair and let his hands fly over the keyboard.

_Access denied._

He twisted around to Matt's own computer and pulled up the security grid of the park, eyes flying over code faster than he'd thought possible.

Lydia hadn't forgotten to lock the door behind her. The locks had been shut off.

With a sick feeling in his gut, he realized that the fences had been shut off too.

Horror crawled through him as he realized just where the tour had stopped and, without thinking, he careened out of his chair and out the door, shouting for Chris and Victoria all the while.


End file.
